


The Finger Dimension

by YesWeStan



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dream Kissing, Drinking, F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Ford is pushing people away again, Getting to Know Each Other, Library Romance, Nightmare, Picnic, Slow Build, They Finally Kiss, Thomas-original male character, forest romance, literal falling, sprained ankle, updated rating because drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26604433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesWeStan/pseuds/YesWeStan
Summary: What exactly did Ford experience in the other dimensions? Ford finds himself crowned king of a place he knows nothing about, and with a crush on you.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Reader, Ford Pines/You
Comments: 33
Kudos: 32





	1. New Dimension

_It seems that this dimension worships fingers. There is a temple to the “Finger God” that the residents pray to on a seemingly daily basis. Some residents even have fingers for toes. lw'v d olwwoh fuhhsb. It’s not entirely clear how the governmental system works, but for now they’ve decided to crown me as their king. Upon seeing my six fingers, they...”_ Ford pauses and looks at his hand. It seems strange that the extra digit that had given him grief his whole life is finally working in his favor. He tucks the paper and pen away and rests his back into the bed. Paper is strangely scarce in a dimension full of fingers. He closes his eyes to fight the wave of nausea. Dimension hopping never gets easier. As his mind wanders, he found himself drifting off to sleep.

A rustle wakes Ford. Panicked and disoriented he springs up, gun in hand pointing towards the noise and taking cover. “Who’s there?!” He yells. A scream registers in his mind. Several blinks later the haze finally clears. In the corner of the room a figure cowers behind a weirdly small sofa. He lowers the gun and moves closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This looked longer when I was typing it up on my phone.


	2. The King's Servant

Trembling behind the chaise is you. As King’s Servant you are responsible for everything the king needed. Cleaning, clothes, meals. The Council probably just wanted someone specific to blame if anything ever went wrong, and now you were about to be blown to bits. Footsteps approach. _Oh Finger God, protect me from harm._ You pray under your breath. You knew it was the new king but it didn’t make the situation any less terrifying. The previous king had looked down upon his subjects, ordering them back and forth. Sometimes servants had been thrown in the dungeon for no reason other than to make an example. With the wealth of resources at his disposal, it was no wonder. You weren’t sure if the new king would be different, but you had hoped so. 

“Are you okay?” 

The innocuous question is comforting. You look up to see the new King’s hand outstretched towards you. There is no gun in sight. Relief replaces fear and you notice the six long, weathered fingers and follow them up to his smiling, handsome face. Flustered, you gather up the clothes you dropped and stand without assistance. 

“Welcome my King,” You waggle your fingers in the customary formal greeting. “I am the King’s servant. It’s an honor to be in your presence.” 

His hand retracts. “Please, just Ford is fine.”

“King... Ford.” The clothing is getting heavy in your arms. “I’ve brought your coronation outfit. The ceremony will begin when the sun reaches twenty fingers.” 

You inch towards the bed. King Ford’s gaze follows for a moment then sweeps around the room. That’s your opportunity to hang the outfit and make the bed. The bedspread is on the floor and the pillows are askew. Smoothing out the sheet your hands feel the warmth where the King had lain. It felt… normal. You are still wary, but maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The new King looks kind. Lost in your thoughts you tidy the pillows and smooth out the luxurious bedding. 

Turning back around gives you a view of the King’s tall figure. He is inspecting the various ornaments around the room; the tapestry depicting the Finger King’s throne, the Royal Finger Chalice, and lastly the tray of food you had prepared. You move to pull the seat out for him.

“Please enjoy the meal, King Ford.”

“Ford.” He said, but came over and sat. “Smells wonderful!” His compliment makes you flush. Standing this close, you can make out more of his features. He looks like a king. It’s no wonder the Council had chosen him.

“Here we have eggs from the fingerling hens, bacon, and handwheat toast accompanied by fresh thumbcow milk.”

He takes a small bite to taste. Finding it suitable he eats voraciously. When everything is finished you give instructions on how the outfit is layered. You leave slowly, peeking back to see him examining the details on the buttons. You couldn’t help but smile as you took the tray to the kitchen. 


	3. Exploration

_Now let’s see._ He feels quite pleased. That was the first nice hot meal he’s had in months, maybe even years. A glance outside distracts him from the coronation outfit. 

Sunlight streams in through the window. From this height he can see a field of what he assumes is handwheat, the hand-shaped grains sprouting from long stalks waving to and fro like the crowd at a boxing match. _A quick stroll would be nice._ It _is_ part of his exercise regimen, and _“I have plenty of time”_ he rationalizes. Time seems to move at roughly the same pace as on Earth, but is measured differently here. He had asked for an explanation before you left. It turns out that a person just has to stack their hands starting from the horizon all the way to the sun, 20 fingers is when the sun is at its highest. He had determined it took about five hours from sunrise to its apex at noon, 300 minutes. That means each finger corresponds to about 15 minutes. Clever. 

Exiting the door to the bedroom brings him to a wide hallway. The best way is probably down. Servants scurry back and forth, paying him no mind. While he didn’t quite blend in at least he doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb. He groans internally. Did that count as a finger joke?

Outside there are chickens pecking through the grass. Well, not quite chickens. These have a hand-shaped cockscomb. They must be the fingerling hens you mentioned earlier. He is unable to determine if they are male or female. Typically male chickens have a prominent cockscomb, but you had definitely said “hens” which usually refers to females. One of them uses its head-fingers to flick away another hen from its grub. Maybe it’s a mystery best left for another time. He continues exploring. 


	4. The Pinkyhorse

When you go to make sure the King is getting ready for the ceremony he is not in his room. You were expecting him to be fully dressed and ready for the coronation, and was going to show him around the castle beforehand.  _ You mean you wanted to find him half-dressed. _ Your mind teased. You coughed. Checking the library and the Great Hall yields no results. It is only when one of the guards tells you that he saw an unfamiliar figure head outside that some of the pieces come together. You grab your cloak and head out. How are you going to find him in this huge town?

“Excuse me, have you seen the King?” You query the shopkeepers as you pass by. Each shake their heads in a negative response. Each makes you a bit less hopeful. What if he’s hurt?

At what seems like the hundredth shopkeeper, you hear a ruckus outside. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” Someone shouts, followed by sounds of indignation from others. 

You thank the shopkeeper and rush to the street to see what is happening. 

There, charging through the crowds is the King. On a pinkyhorse. 

“What the...?” You ask no one in particular. You step out to the street to stop him. It probably isn’t the best idea, seeing as a 1,000 pound pinkyhorse is coming at you. It’s too late to move. Closing your eyes and shielding yourself you hope being barrelled down won’t hurt too badly.

It doesn’t hit you. 

Instead the pinkyhorse stands on its hindquarters and whinnies. It stops in front of you, drawing a crowd. 

“I’m here!” The King says breathlessly, meeting your surprised gaze with an apologetic one. 

“You… what… where did…” You are confused and mildly upset but that proud face with the slightly upturned lip makes your heart skip, and the frustration is lost to the wind. You sigh, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” Grabbing onto the pinkyhorse’s pinkymane you lead the King back towards the castle. 


	5. Heading Back

“I was actually looking for those thumbcows you mentioned when I found this horse. It’s surprising that a wild animal can be so docile. I came up to study the many fingers that make up its mane. They are actually quite convenient to hold onto while riding.” His demeanor was light and cheerful as he continues. “It was then that I realized how much time had gone by. I arrived quickly thanks to my new steed.” He pats the pinkyhorse’s neck.

He watches you turn towards him to laugh, worry releasing from your shoulders. “Horse? You mean pinkyhorse? Haha, imagine a pinkyhorse with no pinkies!”

In the full sunlight he can see you better. The servants’ standard uniform skims just around your collarbone and nips in at the waist. Your cheeks are flushed, lips pursed, eyes the color of… Ford blushes. It’s been a long time since he noticed anyone in this way. He sees the smile dance on your lips, your demeanor cheerful but determined. 

Ford tries to quell these thoughts. It wouldn’t be fair to you. He has to focus on his mission, which means he will leave eventually. Though, he can’t help but enjoy this moment. 

After a while it looks like you check one of the fingers on the pinkyhorse’s mane. Then your eyes are back on the street. He checks to see what you had looked for. Moving the pinkies aside shows a small ring that reads “Property of Fletcher Fingerman”. His blush grows. Somehow he knows you are the one who would be returning the horse for him. Maybe he can make it up to you, but the right words escape him for now. You lead the horse in comfortable silence. 


	6. Preparations

_ Almost back to the castle _ . It is a nice sunny day with a slow breeze.  _ We have time.  _ You saunter at a slow pace. 

The meditative clip clop of the pinkyhorse helps your thoughts drift. You notice that King Ford’s musk is strong from being outside in the hot sun. He smells like a tranquil summer forest. His hair is messy from riding and he is slightly sweaty, highlighting the angle of his jaw and the muscles in his neck. You imagine for a moment those muscles responding to your lips as you kiss his neck, the scruffy shadow of his beard tickling your cheek. Honestly you think it’s charming, how he looks slightly disheveled. 

However, upon reaching his room you insist he bathe so he can be spick and span for the coronation. The other servants help by bringing the tub and filling it with hot water. You stand outside to guard the door. An unfamiliar tune hums from within. When the door finally opens your breath hitches.  _ Woah.  _ The King looks regal in uniform. It shows off his wide chest and shoulders...

Moving in close, you straighten the jacket and brush the lint off the shoulders. He smells amazing, there is the lingering smell of forest mixed in with the soap’s lavender and camomile. As you step back you swear you feel his fingers brush against your waist. Was he…? 

You turn around a little too quickly. A horn bellows to signal the start of the coronation ceremony. 

“This way please, King Ford.” 


	7. The Library

After the Coronation Ceremony, which announces the existence of a new King and bestows the Crown, you take King Ford on a short tour of the castle. The furthest is the stables, so you start there. It’s where the King’s “borrowed” pinkyhorse is being housed. You explain that the previous King’s Servant works in the stables now as a stable hand. He was dismissed from his former post after the old King was put out by the Council. When the stable hand sees you he wiggles his fingers in silent greeting, and continues with his work. Continuing onward, you point out the armory and a few other highlights of the castle. 

You save your favorite for last. Back inside, through a dimly-lit hallway and hidden down a long, meandering flight of stairs is a library. The air here is crisp and smells of old books. King Ford’s eyes widened at the sight. 

“Do you like it?” You ask. 

His face is bright, but for a fleeting moment sadness crosses his eyes. “Reminds me of home.” He breathes in deeply. 

You take an oil lamp from the stairwell and wander down a narrow row of books. 

“This one is my favorite. Oh, and this one too.” Two well-worn books tip precariously as you reach for them. 

“Here, let me.” King Ford reaches up, his arms brushing yours. It gives you goosebumps from head to toe. His proximity is intoxicating. When he brings the volumes down you stand there, arms touching, not quite shoulder to shoulder. 

“Thank you, King Ford.”

“Please, just call me Ford.” 

You’re unsure if addressing the King by his name would get you in trouble with others around the castle.

“Ford…” You try, feeling slightly conflicted. “Am I allowed to drop your title? I like yo-u-unique...ness… but...” You quickly divert. He raises an eyebrow. _Oh man, that was close._ You hope he didn’t catch that, and you hope he can’t hear your heart beating loudly in your chest. 

“It’s perfectly alright.” He says softly.

The books draw his attention. The oil lamp shines its light across the gilded covers.

“ _The Not-Very-Handsome Waterfowl_ ?” He reads aloud. He looks at the other one. “ _The Little Thumb Fairy._ ” His eyes narrow. He looks skeptical. “These are children’s books.”

“They’re really good!” Sounding indignant you flip the pages, the books still nestled in his broad hands. 

The pages hold pale drawings worn by time, the colors mostly faded. 

“This one is about finding a family that loves who you are, not who others want you to be.” Your fingers touch the pages carefully, “And _The Little Thumb Fairy_ is about adventure, even when it’s a little scary.” You think about your trips into the thick forest bordering the kingdom; something about it had always tugged at you. “I like going to the forest sometimes. At first I was a bit afraid, but there’s always something new to see.”

There’s a silence as you keep flipping through. From the corner of your eye, you see him thinking. 

“I would like to see this forest. Will you accompany me? You and I can set out first thing in the morning.” He seems excited by the prospect. It’s not unexpected, but you’re relieved his plan includes you coming along this time. 

You nod. “That sounds lovely.” 

It’s been a while since you last went to the forest. You wonder if your footsteps are still there, or if they’ve been overgrown.


	8. Adventure

**Adventure pt. 1**

Ford meets you at the stables a little before dawn. Looking into each stable, you choose a pinkyhorse to ride. One catches your eye especially. This one has lean muscles and is well-trained. You give it a few pats and it nuzzles back amiably. One supply pack goes on your ride, one pack goes on Ford’s. 

“Ready for adventure?” Ford asks. 

You give the full pack a pat. “All set.”

He mounts with little effort, his body propelled by a quick kick. “Then let’s get going, no time to waste!”

The way to the forest is blissfully free of other travelers. It’s a day’s ride away, but you don’t mind. Ford is sometimes behind, and sometimes next to you. It’s nice when he talks about the animals. They’re mostly common animals, but the way he describes them makes them seem extraordinary. You tell him about others you’ve seen in the kingdom, and even some that you’ve glimpsed in the forest. 

You’ve already decided where to go, so by the time you reach the forest you don’t hesitate to head in. The farther in, the thicker and denser the trees become. As the sky starts to dim you find what you are looking for. 

“Here we are.” You gesture outwardly as the clearing opens up to reveal a gorgeous waterfall, framed by cliffs and vegetation. 

Ford’s eyes widen to take it all in. The red-orange hues of the evening sky reflect off the water cascading from the top. The water in the lake ripples outward in a calming rhythm. 

“It gets even better.” You have a twinkle in your eye. The pinkyhorses roam and munch on leaves as you show him. You lead Ford into a cave behind the waterfall. It isn’t quite visible because of the fading light. But it’s clear that there are markings on the cavern walls. There’s maybe the shape of a crescent moon that you can make out in the dark. “I thought it meant it was already someone else’s cave, but no one ever comes here.”

Ford has a big grin on his face. The brilliance in his eyes makes happiness bloom on your cheeks. You agree to set up camp for the night, and head out to gather some firewood while Ford unpacks. In no time you had both eaten a small dinner and are sitting side by side next to a campfire under the stars. 

It’s peaceful. You relax, pushing away thoughts of the castle. Here, right now, you don’t have to do anything. A glance at Ford shows he’s feeding more wood into the fire. It’s been a long day of riding. Soon your eyelids droop with the heavy weight of sleep. 

**Adventure pt. 2**

Ford watches you from the corner of his eye. He recognizes the familiar signs of the struggle against sleep. Your eyes open and close. Eventually you give in, head nestling against his shoulder. 

His heartbeat drums in his chest, his feelings surging up again. It isn’t only because of how your hair frames your face, or how your cheeks are flushed a little pink from the heat of the fire. He recalls your willingness to listen to his stories about the odd beings he studied; suspending disbelief as you imagined creatures that you’d never seen before. 

Then there was the fact that you even agreed to accompany him to the middle of a forest. 

You were different. 

He takes the worn copy of the _The-Not-Very-Handsome Waterfowl_ from his pocket. Maybe _it_ wasn’t outside the realm of possibility after all. He stops himself. What would _it_ be… love…? friendship? His mind wanders as he flips through the book, reading by the light of the fire. 

**Adventure pt. 3**

The smell of cooking wakes you. You are in a bedroll, eyes bleary. All you can see are streaks of light. You don’t remember tucking yourself in. Your stomach growls in response to your nose, which promises that there are fried eggs nearby.

“Good Morning!” It’s no doubt Ford, though you still can’t see clearly. You rub your eyes to clear the fog. 

“That smells good, did you find eggs?” You totter over curiously. 

“Good nose.” Ford serves the eggs and pivots to the subject of the paintings in the cave. “Unfortunately, they’re impossible to decipher. It could be the secret to the whole universe, or it could just be an old family recipe. Who knows?”

Enjoying your fresh eggs, you and Ford plan for the day. You, somewhat predictably, end up spending the time with Ford exploring and finding more odd creatures. Some are scarier looking than others, a lot of them are pretty gross. There’s one thing he’s notably proud of. 

He holds up his jar. 

In it are three rather large spiders, each with two small human-like arms. 

“Armrachnids.” You said. “What are you going to do with them?” 

"Study them." He spoke excitedly, taking out a stack of papers he scribbles “ARM-rachnid” on the topmost page next to a drawing of the little guys. He hands them to you. “The physiology is intriguing. The legs should be powered by hydraulic pressure, but why the human arms? Do they operate using the same mechanics? Do they move independently of the others?” 

You take a look at the pages. Each leaflet has a different drawing; armrachnids, a pinkyhorse, various things you encountered today. 

“You really do love learning about them.” You hand the pages back. 

He puts the jar in his coat and starts towards the direction of the campsite. “Yes. Some of them are quite fascinating.”

His strides are long and before you know it the waterfall is within sight. You can almost taste the leftover smoked fish waiting for you. Tired after a long day of exploring, you zone out. Ford’s body is entrancing as he moves effortlessly through the trees. You don’t pay as much attention as you should to the terrain. Suddenly you step on a loose rock and your foot slides out from under you. You yelp in surprise. 

“Ah!”

“What happened? Are you okay?” Ford is by your side. 

“I think so, I just slipped…” You stand up with his help. Walking seems doable, but painful. You inhale sharply as pain shoots up your leg from your ankle. It doesn’t seem broken, but it hurts. Badly. 

“Do you think you can hold on?” He loops your arms around his neck. You nod. Careful of the now-swollen ankle, he maneuvers you onto his back. His arms offer support as you keep your legs up around his torso and off the ground. Thankfully, the campsite is only a short distance away. Ford sets you down gently by the fire.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful…” 

He places his hand on yours. 

“Don’t move.”

The bandages in the supply pack are coming in handy finally. Ford sits down, propping your leg onto his lap. He wraps your ankle and cleans the scrapes from your fall. He takes a look at his handiwork. 

“There. Much better.”

“Ford?” 

He looks up. 

“Thank you.”

It’s as if the air shifts when he gives you that easy, lopsided grin. _Oh no_ . You close your eyes. _You’re falling for him._


	9. Recovery

The injured ankle took a few weeks to heal. In the meantime Ford had taught you a game called chess, which you lost every time. "Merciless." You had muttered, to which Ford laughed and said that it just takes practice. In return you answered a lot of questions about the Kingdom. You questioned some of the sillier ones; who didn’t know about wish offerings to the temples? You recalled some of the wishes you had made. Some of the ones were about Ford, but you didn’t tell him that.

Overall it was frustrating not being able to put weight on the foot. Ford insisted on changing out the dressing, even though you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Your recovery time did have its perks: the light touches you shared with Ford, the inconspicuous glances at each other. 

Ford had slowly but surely moved the library into his chambers. Seeing as you couldn’t make it down the stairs without tears pricking from the corners of your eyes, he ended up taking books with him each time he returned. It wouldn’t be surprising if there weren’t any books left in the library. Looking around showed stacks everywhere. In your infinite boredom you tried to tidy up, ONCE. It was inevitably met with resistance. Ford had chastised you for putting weight on your ankle, then proceeded to spend the next hour making his piles again.

“It’s a perfectly logical system.” He said with a deadpan expression.

If there is, it isn’t clear. They still look like random mounds.

Nonetheless, you try to help in other ways. Ford made some “crutches” which, though unwieldy, allowed you to hobble back and forth to the throne room for Ford’s meetings with the King’s advisors. He didn’t like it, but you reminded him that if you didn’t do _something_ you would probably be out of a job. These meetings are... not as interesting as you hoped. You mostly resisted the urge to scribble in the margins of the notes. Some days Ford would pore over these notes for hours into the night. Those evenings would be filled with hmm’s and frustrated sighs. A lot of nights you fell asleep among piles of books, jotting down reminders that Ford recited aloud.

The day you wake up with no pain or tenderness in your ankle, you feel relieved. Ford is pleased to hear that you are feeling back to normal, and kneels down to unwrap your ankle for the last time. With one hand behind your calf he uses the other to unravel the bandages. His touch is tender as he checks your range of motion. Then, in a totally unnecessary movement, the fingers of the hand supporting you brush lightly down your calf. You give a soft gasp. It’s quite bold, there’s no way he didn’t do that on purpose. His attention is still on your ankle; his lips are parted and, you don’t think it’s your imagination, his face is a little flushed. For a brief moment you’re not sure what to say. Eventually a few words tumble out. 

“Now that I’m all fixed up, what should we do?”

Ford holds his chin in thought.

“Go to the forest?” His eyebrow raises in a smirk.

You and Ford both burst out in giggles.

“Unfortunately,” Ford glances at the stack of notes in the “To Do” pile, “there is a lot to be done in the Kingdom. It looks like it will be another long day.” 

With a nod, you get to work. You didn’t mind long days with Ford.


	10. Dream

If this is a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up. 

He looks over at you. The shade from the tree dances over your face as the wind rustles it’s leaves. The sun shines down warm in the early October sky. It’s one of his favorite spots; lying down under a tree, reading. It feels remarkably comfortable with you by his side. 

Book in hand, you glance over to him. “What should we do?” You ask. He puts his book down and reaches over. His hand wraps behind your waist, tilting you towards him. 

“We could do... this.” He kisses your forehead. “And this.” He kisses your nose. “And this.” He kisses your glossy lips. You sigh contentedly and snuggle in closer to his chest. 

He lay there with you, his fingers tickling your skin from shoulder to wrist. Then running up and down your back. 

“You’re perfect.” He sighs into your hair. 

The wind picks up and turns cold. The ground shakes and he’s ripped from you as he falls into an abyss. “Ford! Ford!” You’re calling out desperately from the top of the chasm. Your arm outstretched in horror but it’s too late, he’s falling and falling and falling. Icy terror envelops him. The darkness doesn’t cease. With a crash he lands.

Brushing off the sand he realizes he’s in the middle of a desert. It’s a cold and unforgiving night. He put his thumb out next to the road planning to hitchhike home. Immediately a car pulls up. He gets in. As soon as he shuts the door he sees something drop out of the sky. It’s you. Dazed and confused. Ford tries to open the car door but it’s locked. He tries again. There’s writing on the window in red ink: I’M WATCHING YOU.

He sees a gust push you away from him. You try to run to him but the sand is whipping in your face. A vortex of winds down sand sucks you inch by inch towards a triangular tear in space-time in the distance. Ford tries the door again more desperately, trying to shake it open but it cages him in. “No no no!” He watches as you’re tossed into the rip in the distance, helpless to save you. 

He wakes with a start. 

_A nightmare._ Evening light shines through the window. How long had he been asleep for? He wondered. 

“Ford? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.” Your arm reaches to touch him on the shoulder. 

He brushes your hand away. 

“I’m fine. Just a dream.” He looks at you, your eyebrows knit with concern. He couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you. “It’s late now. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re dismissed.”

“Are you sure?” It’s a little out of the ordinary. Ford knew that you had probably gotten used to the nights passed out at the table next to him. He liked sharing that with you. Losing it is almost unbearable. 

“Yes. Good night.”

In the multitudes of universes and dimensions, had Bill somehow managed to find him? Did he mean you harm? Who knows what Bill would do to get what he wants. Ford stared at the door after it shut, then took a deep breath. _Just stay focused. Control. Your. Emotions._ He commanded himself. He can’t put you in danger because of his mistakes. This is what he has to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's pushing people away again :(


	11. No Rest for the Weary

“Good Morning Ford!” You are still lighthearted despite the odd dismissal last night. You couldn’t help remembering Ford’s touch on your skin. 

The Ford you find is less than cheerful.

“Greetings.” 

He is absolutely bedraggled. The shadow of his beard is dark on his face. His hair is mussed from running his fingers worriedly through his hair, like he’s doing now. Dark circles under his eyes give his face a ghostly pallor. He looks up at you for only a brief moment before resuming the back and forth of his pacing. 

“I brought breakfast.” Setting down the tray on the table, you can’t help but think that something is peculiar. Late nights aren’t uncommon, but this seems… worse somehow. 

“Is everything okay?” You move in close as he paces towards you, effectively stopping him in his path. Without a thought your hand moves to feel for a temperature at his forehead. “You don’t look well. Should I cancel everything today? We could go feed the thumbcows.” You ask hopefully. 

“No. I’m fine.” Ford grabs your wrist to pull your hand away, then stuffs his own hands into his pockets. He’s not rough. But it’s not gentle either. 

_ Is it just me, or is it a little tense…? _

“Um. Okay. Well… the Hatter is coming, I thought I might pick up something new before we’re due for your first meeting today.”

Silence. 

Then, “Yes, you should go. Take your time. I won’t be requiring your assistance anymore.” 

_ What? _

“Ford, is something wrong? ” You reach out for him but he steps back. 

“I’m not sure you could handle it. It’s better if you don’t know.”

You frown. “Let me help.”

Stepping in a little closer, you try to regain some of the intimacy from yesterday. But it’s not there. The air feels like solid ice, forcing you apart even though you are only standing a few inches away. This is so sudden. Why is he pushing you away? All of the flirting, all of the light touches. Did they mean nothing to him? Was it all just a game? 

His face is expressionless as he speaks. His words are abrupt.

“I don’t need you.” 

SLAP.

Ford winces as he touches his cheek, now red from your hand. 

“You’re a jerk.”

You storm out, hurt and broken-hearted.


	12. The Hatter

_ Idiot. Stupid. He’s the worst.  _ You sniffle. Tears escape despite your best efforts to hold them back. Through bleary eyes you looked at yourself in the mirror. You look cute, even with puffy eyes and a weird-looking hat on your head.  _ And now I’m out of a job. Maybe the cook will let me help her in the kitchen again.  _

You look at the other offerings on the table. Maybe you shouldn’t even be buying a hat.

“Having a little bit of trouble, Missus?” 

You laugh ruefully. Then look up to see a stranger. It isn’t the hatter you knew from before; this man is more pleasant to the eyes. 

“Just Miss, I’m… not married.” You give a courtesy smile. “Are you…?” 

“Also not married.” He replies. 

You laugh genuinely this time. Actually, you were wondering if he’s the new Hatter. 

“I’m Thomas, Hatter’s Apprentice.” He bows. “Pleased to meet you.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a hat that cures heartbreak do you?” You’re being snarky, but it gets a small chuckle. 

“We don’t unfortunately. What happened?” He hands you a different, less weird hat to try on. 

“Well, I thought we had something, you know? And then all of a sudden, poof. Out of nowhere he doesn’t want anything to do with me.” You give a long, drawn-out sigh. 

“That’s rough.”

This hat is well-made, but doesn’t suit you. It looks like you’re ready for tea with the general’s wife. You put it back and try a different one. This one is much better. 

“I think I want this one.”

He nods and takes your coins. 

“It looks nice.” He hesitates for a moment. “I know this might sound forward, but would you like to accompany me to the celebration tonight? Not as a date. Just as a friend. I don’t really know anyone here.” His fingers adjust his tie nervously but he grins. “I can put together a mean picnic basket.”

You’re not in the mood to celebrate, but not having to make dinner does sound nice. 

“As long as you’re serious about the picnic basket.”

“Very serious.”

The weight on your shoulders seems to lift a little. 

“Thanks for listening to me, it really helped.” 

You walk away armed with a new hat, and a new friend. It seems less like the end of the world now. There is a lot to be done. First things first, you need to talk to a cook about a job.


	13. Harvest Celebration

“Over here!” Thomas waves you over to the picnic blanket. You meandered through the families sprawled out on the grass. There’s a nice breeze in the air. The sky is brilliant as the sun starts its journey downward, the blues starting to turn into purples and pinks. You felt more confident. The conversation with the cook had gone well. To mark the good news, and because the picnic was a nicer event, you changed into something less worn.

It turns out Thomas wasn’t kidding about the basket. In it are nuts, dried fruits, cheeses, crackers, and sandwiches. There’s also wine. You feel your mouth water in anticipation. 

“This is amazing! You did all this?” 

“Yep.” Thomas beams as he takes them out one by one. You take a wedge of cheese. Gosh, you don’t even remember the last time you had a big melty hunk of cheese. 

You tell him about your new role with the cook, to which he toasts. He explains that he had plans to be a cook, since his parents run a tavern. But since his uncle is getting old and a bit frail, he had agreed to become an apprentice to help and maybe take over the business. That explains why this sandwich tastes heavenly. You’re having a good time. No, a great time. That is until...

“Ladies and gentlemen, your King!” 

Several bugles sound. Cheers and applause erupt. Your face pales as Ford appears on the castle balcony overlooking the field. Your heart thumps in your chest, from anger or from yearning you can’t tell. As he scans the crowd his messy curls droop a bit, his jaw is set fiercely. Sitting atop his head is the crown. You recognize the paper he pulls out. It’s the speech. _Your_ speech. The one you wrote when your addled brain had nothing but _him_ in mind. 

Ford holds up his hand. The cheering stops. 

“Welcome to this year’s celebration of harvest.” He begins, voice loud and firm. “We are thankful for all that we have been blessed with. Through the myriad of meals that we all have enjoyed this year, none are sweeter than those we share with the ones we love. Family and friends, old and new. Now is the time to celebrate once again with each other. Drink, eat, and be merry!”

The clapping starts up again as Ford waves and disappears into the castle. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

The question startles you. Thomas has a sympathetic look on his face. Only then do you notice the grimace on yours, and that you hadn’t touched your sandwich since the beginning of the speech. You look down. There isn’t any point getting into it. Even if you still have feelings, you can’t forget the humiliation you felt when you were tossed aside. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

“I don’t want to think about it too much. I’m having a lot of fun, Thomas. Let’s just enjoy the picnic.” You put on the best _everything-is-okay_ grin as you can. “The fireworks should be starting soon!”

And they did. The brilliant hues accompanied by the loud BANGs of the fireworks are followed by _oohs_ and _ahhs_ , as well as children running around pretending to shoot each other with cannons. Pretty soon you’re able to have fun again: sharing your harvest day stories, talking with other families, making up stories about others. When it gets chilly Thomas wraps a blanket around your shoulders. It’s a sweet gesture. You thought the wine would warm you up, you say. But it’s really only making you need to use the washroom. You excuse yourself, promising to finish your made-up story about one of the families when you get back. 

After the washroom you head back out to the picnic. The castle is pretty dark at night but you know the way. Your fingers trail the air as you hum your way through the halls. There must’ve been a lot of alcohol in the wine, it feels like you’re being pulled sideways. 

Wait. 

You _are_ being pulled. Before you can even make a sound you find yourself in the dark hallway leading towards the library. 

Half-hissed words hit your ears, “What are you _doing_?”

It’s Ford. 

“What are _YOU_ doing?” You snap back, wrenching out of his grip. “You can’t just pull me in here.”

He doesn't respond to that. Instead he says, “He could be far more dangerous than you can imagine.” Ford eyes the blanket around your shoulders. You tug it closer. 

“No. He’s not. Thomas is a good person.”

The truth is, Ford had seen the way you were laughing. He had frowned when Thomas had pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. A new person popping up in your life just as he had a dream about Bill? But you wouldn’t know. How could you? All of these secrets for him to bear, alone. Of course he’s suspicious. But also jealous. You look beautiful. All dressed up not for him, but for _Thomas_.

“Please, trust me.” He reached up to tuck that piece of hair behind your ear, just as Thomas had done. He succeeded, but you swatted his hand away.

“Trust you? I liked you and you just… you threw me away like garbage!” Tears stung your eyes for the second time today. “Just leave me alone!”

Ford took your shoulders in his hands. You tried to push him away. It seems like he’s going to try to take the blanket from you; until you realize that he’s just as drunk as you are. Maybe more. You scoff. 

“How much did you have to drink?” 

“Bleven…teen.” Is his reply.

This is outrageous. You know what you have to do, but you don’t _really_ want to. Resolute, you guide him out from the dark hallway. Your arm is tucked into his, hoping to appear normal in case anyone passes by. Ford is mostly able to stagger his way in a straight line past the dimly lit halls, though sways every so often. Kicking open the doors of the bedchambers shows a fireplace that has no fire burning. The room is chilly. You can’t muster the energy to restart the fire, so you tuck Ford under as many covers as you can. You sit at the edge of the bed, exhausted from the effort. You notice how soft and fluffy the covers are. You close your eyes, running your fingers over the smooth material. You’re just… gathering your energy to head back outside. You’re still awake. Just a little drunk. Yes. Just resting... your eyes... for a…


	14. Protective

Ford eyes fly open in the dead middle of the night. Sitting up quickly earns him a splitting headache. He clutches his head. It’s a familiar feeling after late nights, but what worried him is the dull ache behind his eyes. That same feeling he had experienced when Bill had taken over his mind. He searched his body for bruises and found a mark on his cheek stinging a mellow pink. No, that wasn’t from Bill. That was- 

He turns to see you curled up next to him. 

Was it true? You liked him, he plucked that moment from the hazy memories of yesterday. Your sleeping face is so serene, compared to your reaction yesterday. He hated seeing you like that. Maybe pushing you away had been a mistake. He couldn’t protect you from so far away, he could only hope that you were safe. 

You seem to stir, bringing the covers closer to you. You look so comfortable. His hand brushes the hair away from your face and places a soft, gentle kiss on your forehead. He stays for a while, drinking in the sight of you. Then the bed shifts as he gets up, needing to clear his head. It’s time for a new plan. 

Sunlight hits your eyes. Reluctantly, you open your eyelids, squinting against the brightness. There’s a slight throbbing in your head. _Ugh_. You just want to go back to sleep.

Bits and pieces of the night come back. You remember the picnic, the fireworks, bringing Ford back to his chambers. You tilt your head. It’s definitely his bed but Ford isn’t it anywhere to be seen. You recall the whisper of a kiss in the night. Was that real? Your fingers brush your forehead. It doesn’t make sense. It was probably your imagination. More importantly, you should find Thomas and apologize for leaving him at the picnic. 

You’re relieved to see that he's still here. Thomas is chatting with some of the ladies, showing them different variations of the same hat. You hang back until they leave. When he sees you his face brightens. 

“Hey! Back for more hats?” He jokes. 

A grin tugs the corners of your lip. “Actually, I came to apologize. I’m sorry I didn’t make it back yesterday.”

He waves it away. “No worries. Though you did miss one of the kids getting a bug stuck up his nose.” 

“No way.”

“Really! You should have seen his face.” The hall rings with his laughter, and yours joins in. 

A man comes to look at the hats. You pretended to shop as Thomas helped him out. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see someone watching you from around the corner. Staring in that direction proves it’s just a shadow of the wall caused by the nearby sconce. The scent of pine seems to hang in the air. You try to catch the smell again but it’s gone, or it was never there to begin with. Your imagination is getting the better of you today. 

Your attention returns to Thomas, who is chatting about this and that. You couldn’t help but admire his easy-going nature. The man he is talking to was aloof at first, but ends up exchanging a few laughs and leaves with high spirits and quite a few hats. The rest of the morning passes by quickly. It seems like the conversation could go on forever. Before you knew it, the time had come to help the kitchen prep for lunch. 

You ask if he’d like to walk around town together tonight to make up for yesterday. Though, it would have to be a bit later in the evening. You’re helping the cook with dinner tonight. He brings a hand to his chin, eyebrow arched, and pretends to think with a loud “Hmmm.” You nudge him indignantly which makes you both chuckle.

“Sounds wonderful! See you tonight.” He waves as you depart. 

You walk to the kitchen with a heady feeling. A spring in your step that wasn’t there before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What three sided torment should Ford be worried about more: this love triangle, or our friendly neighborhood nightmare dorito?


	15. Mixed Emotions

You twirl a little in front of the mirror. There aren’t many options for what to wear, but you settled on something blue. You feel good, the collar of your dress is cut in a way that shows off your collarbone. It’s a little risqué, but just the right amount. You top off the outfit with your new hat. Butterflies flutter in your stomach; you’re looking forward to tonight. 

Thomas meets you at the entrance of the castle. You notice that he’s readied himself a little as well, hair brushed in place rather than in the loose curls from this morning. His sleeves are rolled up, the fabric framing his toned forearms in a delicious way. You rest your hand on the inside of his arm as you walk side by side. 

The night is crisp, and the stars sparkle against the backdrop of the darkened sky. Lanterns are strung up at each stall of the night market. The atmosphere is filled with excited chatter. As you peruse, you and Thomas point out cute knick knacks and interesting food stands. To your delight Thomas buys you something sweet. Sugar donuts. 

“You sure know how to make a girl happy.” Your eyes gleam. You take a bite, relishing in its sugary goodness. 

When it’s gone, you glance longingly back at the donut stand. That’s when you see a tall figure in a black cloak turn his back to you quickly. His hood is up, covering his face. Suspicious. Is he following you? You think you saw that man at the same distance a few stalls back. A little bit of panic sets in, but you try to suppress it. There’s no reason why someone would follow you. Maybe he just _happens_ to be at those stands shopping. You watch as the person inspects a small object, turning it to and fro. He brings it up to the hanging lantern, which lifts the bottom of the cloak to reveal muddied boots. That’s when you know. He surreptitiously peeks in your direction and whips around to hide his face when he sees you staring. 

With Thomas distracted by the storekeeper, you amble towards the other shop. As you stand next to the hooded figure, he freezes and stands motionless. 

“Are you following me?” you whispered through your teeth. 

“You must be mista-”

“Ford.” 

The figure sighs and pushes his hood back. 

“How did you know?” 

“Your boots have that stain that I could never get out.” You say flatly. He looks mildly impressed but it goes away when you cross your arms. 

“Why are you following me?” You repeated. 

Ford scans the area before taking your hand. 

“Let’s talk somewhere private.” He says, and leads you away. 

You follow him out from the hustle and bustle of the market. Once you escape the throngs of people, he starts pacing the alleyway. 

“There’s something important I need to tell you.” He says, his expression serious. “I believe Thomas may actually be Bill, my greatest enemy. He manipulates others to gain control of their minds. He would stop at nothing to get what he wants, even if it means using you. He’s fooled me before, and he’ll do it again if he can. We must take every precaution.” 

You’re quiet, unsure what to make of this. _Mind control?_ It seems implausible. Not to mention there’s something else you don’t quite understand. 

“Why would he be after me?” 

Ford stops pacing. “If Bill has been in my mind again he would know about our connection, putting you in grave danger.”

“What do you mean?” 

He turns to you, hesitating. 

“I never thought that this would happen,” his words are slow and carefully measured, “but I’ve developed… feelings for you. I’m afraid they’ve made you a target.”

You’re stunned and a bit overwhelmed. Your mind tries to wrap around everything, to make sense of what he just said. When it clicks, your frustration comes out in a barrage of words. 

“Feelings, Ford? Is this some sort of sick joke?” Your arms wave above your head, then you stab your finger at his chest. He takes a step back with each punctuated accusation. “You pushed me away. You kicked me out. You told me you didn’t need me anymore.”

His back is to the wall. He sputters, no words come out. Everything you said was true. How could he make you believe him? He gulps, tugging nervously at his collar. You’re even prettier than you were yesterday. His eyes run down the silhouette of a dress he’d never seen before. As you searched his face for an answer he noticed again how intoxicating your scent is, how the sound of your voice sent tingles up his spine. 

He acts without a plan, without knowing whether he would succeed. In this tense, desperate moment all he can think to do is bring you close to him. 

It was shocking, feeling an embrace that you were convinced was lost to you forever. His arms wrap protectively around your torso, broad chest pressed to yours. You breathe in that woodsy scent, a reminder of the nights and days you spent together. Your body could be made of clouds, with how light you felt. As if all was finally right with the world. In this dim alley, nothing else mattered but the feel of him; his rough stubble against your cheek, a familiar kiss pressing into your forehead. Tingling waves zip from your stomach to the tips of your toes. With unsteady fingers he pulls your mouth to his. Ford’s lips caress yours feverishly in a passionate flood of emotions. His breath travels down your neck to nip at your shoulder. It turns your brain to mush. Your body hums in response, trying to bring him even closer. When he catches your lips again he presses in deeper, wanting to taste every inch. 

After an eternity you reluctantly push yourself away, a blush heating up your cheeks. He’s just as breathless as you are. 

“I- I need some time. To think.” You say. Your head is muddled. Yearning and disbelief mix in a confusing blur and you can’t differentiate one feeling from another.

He nods in understanding. “That’s fine.” He says, but his fingers trail through yours as you walk away, not wanting to let you go.


End file.
